


petrichor

by ghost_001



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Sexy Zone
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, also a writing practice following a prompt, could be read as gen honestly but my head had FumaKen so that's that, this didn't go as planned but that's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghost_001/pseuds/ghost_001
Summary: There's the lights of the city, the sound of cars whizzing by and the pitter-patter of rain droplets as they hit the asphalt.And then there's Kento right in front of him, eyes ablaze with an anger he's all too intimate with.
Relationships: Kikuchi Fuma/Nakajima Kento
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt was something like "arguing in the rain and laughing about it later because the cause was stupid" but I obviously went off tangent

There's the lights of the city, the sound of cars whizzing by and the pitter-patter of rain droplets as they hit the asphalt. And then there's Kento right in front of him, eyes ablaze with an anger he's all too intimate with. They stand on the sidewalk, drenched with rain because they're stupid enough to stop a cab at a place with no roof and Fuma wonders- how on earth did they get here? At this moment, this time and in this place?

They were having dinner at a restaurant as usual. Fuma didn't talk- they both didn't, but the atmosphere was casual and Kento playfully told him he'd pay for once too. And he called a cab, as usual, and then things got sour 30 minutes in. That wasn't usual. 

"Are you even listening to me!?"

Fuma's tired. It's 10:30pm and he- They've got work tomorrow early in the morning and all he wants is to sleep. "I am, I am," he assures, but it's not placating. Fuma means it like he's genuinely done with Kento's shit and he's not having it. "Look, I know you're mad,"

"-God, you're pretending again-"

"But can we do this tomorrow? Argument aside, it's literally raining and we have work tomorrow. If we show up sick, that's not on me."

Heaved breath. Fuma's head is pounding, he has a killer migraine that makes him want to yell but Kento's not done, he's just riling up. 

"No," he says, and Fuma's heart sinks because deep down he knows what Kento knows and he resigns to being here for a while. It's not a heavy downpour but it is rain and it is cold- There's an irony there that while it's freezing, Kento's gaze burns and leaves marks everywhere on him. He shrinks into his jacket as if the world's attention is on him. 

"I'm not going to stop just because you tell me to. Especially not because of-" he gestures wildly to the sky, "because of this!"

He marches up to Fuma, finger pointed to his chest. He doesn't break eye contact, which is somehow the worse thing ever actually because Fuma feels vulnerable under Kento's eyes. Timid, small. Like an ant before its queen. 

"I'm not going to stop, because you have a _problem_ , Fuma," another jab to the chest, "A problem that could've been solved if you talked to me about it!"

"There's nothing to talk about-"

" _There is!_ " 

Fuma's heart races. Kento talks with his body, arms gesturing to him, appalled and stance rigid. He looks like he's about to cry actually, which is a weird coincidence because Fuma feels like crying too. It's either that or the rain, harsh, unforgiving, a hailing mistress. 

"You're not looking at me," Kento continues. His voice is desperate now, dripping with some sort of sadness that stabs at Fuma's core. "You know I saw it- You just have to admit to it so I'd know that you _trust me_."

Fuma trusts Kento. Of course he does. Does he? His mind reels back to the time they were in the cab, when he forgot to lower the cuff of his jacket enough to hide marks on the back of his hand. Kento grabbed his wrist then because what he was seeing was unusual, Fuma knew- So he panicked, shoved Kento away from him not so lightly and the air became so off putting and thick with scrutiny that Fuma would've suffocated in it if Kento hadn't stopped the driver. 

But because of that, they're here now. Lightly drenched, furious eyes, and tired countenance. Fuma wants nothing more than to go home but Kento's one stubborn bastard- It's scary how he is, because Fuma honestly doesn't know how to get out of this situation, for all the clever wit most claim that he has.

"I trust you," he finally says. He licks his lips, trying to find an out. "Of course I do."

"You're lying," Kento replies. "Because if you do, you would've told me about it." The accusation stings but it's nothing Fuma hasn't handled before. He's focusing more now on how to escape this, _because Kento shouldn't know in the first place, shouldn't confront him about it because he should've hidden it better so he could pretend nothing happened before all of this so they could go home laughing, hand in hand and at peace like **normal-**_

(Fuma wonders why Kento decided to bring this up now unlike the other times before, when he saw and ignored.)

"We need to go home-"

"Look at me."

That's a demand, Fuma realizes, and despite all the alarm bells ringing in his head screaming at him to get away, _to run_ \- he blinks, and lifts his gaze. 

Kento looks disappointed now, but it's not as scathing as it's accepting. He knows Fuma inside-out, that's what Fuma wants to believe, as he gently cups his hands into his own. There's hesitancy there when Kento caresses them, like he's scared of hurting him even further. His eyes never left his stare. 

They're a world on it's own, those eyes. They judge every part of him but they're rightful, (so full of love for someone like him), and Fuma falls victim to them, always. 

"You saw," Fuma says before his partner could get anything in. The light drizzle of the rain doesn't let up but he hardly feels cold now, too preoccupied with choosing words that won't make him regret later. It's not complex but his emotions weigh differently on each word, and it's heavy, his heart. "And I know. I trust you."

The silence permeates. It twists and chokes because the implication behind that is suffocating, much like the time back in the cab. There's bile in his throat and a pressure in his head that's getting louder- because this honestly isn't the way he'd thought it'll turn out, in the rain and hands clasped like two lovers leaning in for a kiss. It sounded romantic until it isn't, because Kento's settled on a look that's a bit of a mystery. Fuma doesn't recognize it, not really- but his hands are squeezed and it stings just slightly before he feels himself being pulled forward.

It's a warm embrace that Fuma doesn't expect. He breathes in Kento's scent and it's familiar in a situation so completely out of his control. It smelt of home and safety, of a bond he couldn't break no matter how much he tried. In one second, Fuma thinks he's stupid for ever wanting to hide it all. 

In another, Fuma regrets everything that has happened that lead up to this point, because it'll change something in the future between them, inevitably, without a doubt, and the _air- it feels like- pity-_

The hands on his back are steady and firm, and he hears a soothing voice next to his ear. I'm sorry, it says. I could've done so much more. 

(How dare you, it doesn't say.)

(Yes, you could've, the devil quips.)

He weakly hugs back, tired. "It's never your fault. I don't think there's anyone to blame other than me."

"I don't think you could've..." Kento trails off, pauses. He tightens his hold on Fuma as if he's afraid of letting him go, as if Fuma would dissipate into the wind if he's not strong enough. "We can take this one step at a time. Together."

At some point, the rain seemed to have gone away. It's a quiet night now, the sound of cars whizzing by and the lights of the city clearer with the absence of rain upon asphalt roads. Fuma's embrace on Kento tightens too because even if he doesn't know what he really wants from now on, what matters is that he's content right now, in this moment, so he relishes it for as long as he can. 

He buries his head in the crook of Kento's neck, shuddering breaths and welled up tears. His hands tremble, just a little, and when he speaks it's a whisper away from being carried into the breeze. 

"Together." He repeats.

(and if it sounded like a lie to his own ears, he ignores it.)


End file.
